


Extinguishing Stars

by Ellenar_Ride



Series: Meeting the Broken Links [9]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, Mending Links 'Verse, everything i touch turns to angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23019538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellenar_Ride/pseuds/Ellenar_Ride
Summary: He is not a Link, not truly, and he does not belong here. There are glimmers of good deep in his soul, like stars in the night sky, and every day he watches them wink out of existence. Every night, the sky is a little darker.(Prompt: The Sky at Night)
Series: Meeting the Broken Links [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1545613
Comments: 9
Kudos: 33





	Extinguishing Stars

It is a not-uncommon state of affairs for Shadow to feel out of place in the Homestead; he has, after all, done his level best to murder at least half of these Links in the past, but they didn't hesitate to offer him shelter when they found him confused and dazed and hurting in the fields they call their own. But while the other Links find healing and relaxation in this peaceful home, Shadow only winds himself tighter and tighter, every muscle taut, always on edge. He is not a Link, not truly, and he does not belong here. There are glimmers of good deep in his soul, like stars in the night sky, and every day he watches them wink out of existence. Every night, the sky is a little darker.

If only he'd never listened to that small voice that wrapped around his soul all those nights ago—that overwhelming presence that looked at the very essence of him, knew him to his core, and exuded such genuine love and pain and sorrow at the stain in him, and whispered mournfully _please come home, Rahim._ If only he'd kept his composure, his resolve—if only he'd had the strength not to cave at the slightest hint of affection, a desperate childish craving never satisfied that he has no guards against. Maybe then he would be of sound mind. Maybe then he would be free of the ever-present ache where his heart is supposed to be (but never was, never will be or beat or stir or anything but _hurt.)_

 _Wanting to be loved doesn't make you bad,_ something deep inside Shadow pleads. The tiny niggling feeling started up at the same time he arrived at the Homestead, so he's named it Rahim—maybe this part of him is who the voice intended to address. He wishes it would stop prodding his bruised not-heart to further foolish notions.

_It's not stupid, either!_

Shut up, SHUT UP, he can't—there are stinging tears in his eyes, a hand clamped over his mouth to keep from expressing one single ill-conceived syllable. Of course it's stupid, who could ever love the dark?

No, Shadow is unlovable by design. But that's okay—he doesn't need or want to be loved, or even liked. He'll settle for being tolerated, for physical safety and a place to lay down at night. And this place provides that—provides all he could ever need and more. All he has to do is reign in his traitorous not-heart, crush every childish thought of _want_ and _longing_ and _love me, please, what did I do wrong,_ and he will be alright. All he has to do is extinguish every star in the sky, and nothing will be able to hurt him again.

Shadow is breaking. No, he's _broken,_ past tense. It's already happened, and there's no turning back. Every kind word, every gentle touch, every friendly affirmation, they only deepen the cracks, widen the gaps, dig into his skin like barbs until he can't breathe, can't speak, can only fall to pieces and run away and hide until the gaping wounds in his spirit begin to stitch themselves back together. But there's no cure, no healing—only a patch-job fix, and the canyons pain has carved into his essence are always there, just below the surface. At his core, he's still something rotten, covered in a coat of paint.

The cursed stars illuminate every crack, every patch, every scar; they highlight, _accentuate,_ every imperfection and vulnerability. Every moment he's exposed against his will he winds himself tighter, working himself into a paranoid fit, worry transforming to anger, anger to bitterness, bitterness to deliberate detachment. A calculated aura of _don't touch me._

It is at this precise, ironic moment, _of course_ , that a Link flops down in the grass and leans against his back. Shadow growls, baring his teeth at no-one, but when the Link refuses to relent he crosses his legs to better brace against the weight. It's Sav, of course. It always is. The wildest Link is the only one braindead enough to chance getting close. It's part of his whole list of stunts: climbing guardians, wrestling bears, sitting on Lynels, and willingly coming into physical contact with Shadow. How _brave._

"What do you want?" Shadow demands, upper lip curling. He puts on a mask of disinterested irritation, because entirely against his will he can feel the weight in his chest lifting, granting him a tiny reprieve.

"Your company," Sav replies. Just like that Shadow's reluctantly brightening mood plummets back into the inky depths of the abyss.

_"̨͡L͜i̵̕͘a̢r͡͏̸.̢͟"͠_

Shadow's voice falls apart into a mess of unintelligible frequencies, highs and lows layering and echoing until his response is more felt than heard. He barely notices.

No-one sits with him because they want his _company._ No-one talks to him for _conversation._ No-one touches him unless they want something, badly. Usually, it's a slow and agonizing death for someone who’s angered them. Sometimes it's worse. After all, Shadow is a _very_ pretty boy.

Sav leans more of his weight on Shadow's back and hooks one arm through his elbow. All at once it's too much, too familiar, and Shadow cannot silence his own thoughts, cannot shake the memories that he _does not want._ Stomach turning in a mix of disgust and discomfort, he unceremoniously shoves Sav off and scrambles to his feet. One of the scattered stars in Shadow’s darkness begins to fade.

“Hey,” Sav calls from the grass, but he doesn’t sound offended. “Are you okay? I’ve never heard you sound like that before.”

Of course he hasn’t, Shadow has been taking care to keep his less typical features well under wraps. Experience has taught him it’s safer than letting them show.

“If you tell me what upset you, I can make sure not to do it again.”

Is he… serious? He _sounds_ serious. Maybe that’s just… how he is?

The fading star twinkles a little brighter.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guess who's not dead? Me! Still! Barely!
> 
> So yeah, Shadow was originally supposed to come _way_ later in the series, but he just jumped out at me and demanded I write his oneshot, so he's moving up in the story order. Also, I didn't originally intend for the touch-related subtext to be a thing? The bit after Sav showed up just sort of wrote itself, and it made sense so I left it.


End file.
